#sorry to the person who's probably doing that. that's rough buddy.

[tarjapearce]

Chapter 1: And So, Chaos Was Born.

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNING: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Smut, angst, emotional distress, mentions and graphic depictions of cheating, rough sex, one night stand, Protected sex, p in v, fingering, squirting, touch starved reader, mentions of fuck buddies, condom breaking, reckless and questionable behaviors, established relationships.

Summary: A momentary relief brings the worst possible of outcomes.

Pt. 2

reblogs, comments, tags are highly appreciated c:

Chapter's song:

Sparkling bubbles popped in the surface of the champagne cups as they were distributed among the attendants. A relatively formal retirement party.

A party that liked it or not required your presence in an attempt to make feel the retiring executive chairman appreciated and already missed, despite most having the slightest idea who the hell he was.

Just a few bunch knew him, but even so, many have their reasons to be at the party besides the RSVP deemed mandatory. Free food, alcohol, a collective ogling from the well dressed coworkers people had a crush on, leading to new gossips to keep boredom away and morale up within Alchemax's breadwinners.

Not so discreet looks at the administration's and Lab's secret crushes, more gossips and a night off preoccupations. Your reason? Getting all dolled up and wear for the first time a dress you always wanted but never had the occasion to wear.

A black silk bustier cut dress with spaghetti's straps and floral embroidery with matching and stylish spool heel sandals. Hair that was usually tied in a mid ponytail on reception, thanks to the borderline stupid corporative image code, was now free and blown out by a stylist.

A French girl makeup that only enhanced your features, drawing the attention towards your lips. Nails lacquered in a lovely shade of red that matched your alluring mouth. Along a black little purse to hold your personal items.

You looked different from the boring receptionist look you had mastered after Two years of working for Alchemax.

A couple of men had approached you through the night, but we're kindly declined. Part of your job had granted you the ability to remember faces quite well, hence a bit of knowledge about their position in the company.

One worked in the research department, the other one had invited you a cup and a talk, but he was known as The dirty Samson in the administration lands. Another one from HR and Security management.

It was odd. They'd probably pass you without noticing much difference if you were in the working mode. Sometimes you marvelled at how easily impressed men were with a bit of makeup and more effort. It was like if you were a completely new person. The HR guy had the nerve to ask you if you had been transferred. Earning the instant rejection buzz.

You downed what it seemed your third cup of sparkling liquor, and went to the entré bar. You didn't know who was the guy but were grateful he thought about leaving the big way, and his colleagues to splurge in him in delicious food that had you swooning. Specially some little empanadas, full with the right amount of spicy seasoning that made your mouth soar in delight.

You were about to grab the last one when a large and tan hand snatched it from the silver and fancy platter at the last second.

A bushy eyebrow quirked at you, a silent this is mine, get over it. With a huff you reached for the last crunchy guacamole cup when your fingers grazed not so kindly with his. By instinct you slapped his hand away but quickly turned horrified at your actions.

"I'm so so sorry... fuck." You covered your mouth and the man chuckled, amused at your nervousness.

What if he was from the higher ups? What if he got you fired for being so careless and uncouth? What if-

"Here, have it. They're bringing more anyways"

A tight knot coiled in your stomach as nervousness bloomed into anxiety.

"Thanks" Your dry mouth mumbled, his eyes remaining on you for a bit, seizing you while reaching for the food. Sadly, his face was the only one that didn't ring a bell on your memory, and you had seen and remembered a lot of faces through your working years.

You'd definitely remember sharp cheekbones, meaty and inviting lips, Mahogany eyes that would search within the deepest crack of your soul without trying much. A rare yet appealing color that screamed danger. Strong nose and a compelling demeanor that would scare anyone coward enough to flee from his presence.

And you were no coward.

The cherry ontop was his voice. Deep with a dash of mischievousness if you  paid enough attention.

He held a cup of champagne on his left hand.

"The lobster spring rolls are good"

Mentally slapping yourself for a rather awkward approach, you grabbed a small paper cup of sweet chili sauce to go with the two aforementioned snacks in your plate.

He just looked at your hands, eyes trailing over the skin and soon, stopped at your chest. Lovely pair of mounds that would certainly fit into his hands.

He blinked the sudden thought away but it didn't help him watch you popping a small grape into your mouth.

Oddly enough he had been angry. Angry at the text messages and calls he had received a while ago, unleashing a new level of meanness within his heart.

He hated being belittled and the passive aggressive back handed texts did not help him. He needed to replenish before setting his plan in motion. Part of him knew it was wrong what his mind had conspired, but his current situation had decided it was enough. He could only take so much before lashing out.

The anger had to be let out one way or another. And you happened to set his imaginary idea bulb alight. His jaw clenched.

He hadn't seen you before, to him you'd probably be another outside guest that would have no business in returning to the company. Someone who would be forgotten in a span of a night. Another one in his long forgotten and hidden list of conquers. 

You downed the fourth cup of  champagne and ate, balancing the alcohol ingest.

"What's your name?"

The words came out of his mouth like butter. In other circumstances he'd be repulsed by his own behavior, but the brewing anger had to be unleashed one way or another, or things would turn even more acrid within his mind.

Your eyes widened a bit at the question. Naturally you gave him your name and he nodded.

"Miguel. Nice to meet you."

He offered his right hand and you took it. His engulfing yours with ease.

"Are you having fun?"

"I'm just here for the food if I'm honest" You chuckled and cleared your throat, hoping the lack of flirting over the past six months wouldn't seep in through and ruin the possible chance ahead of you.

"Uh, what about you?"

"Not a party guy. But one in a while won't hurt."

"Cheers to that" Your cups clinked.

His eyes scanned the area. People were either scattered in the main salon area, or were outside in the balconies, in their own world not really looking his way or yours.

Good.

"Do you know by chance whose the guy that's leaving?" His chuckle only widened your smile.

"Not really."

Lies. Miguel perfectly knew him, He was the chairman of the Lab Department, and if he worked hard enough, he'd be the old man's replacement soon. He even had a new project proposal he had been assembling the past months and hopefully that would kickstart his road ahead.

You on the other hand, had been looking into a more administrative position, trying to upgrade the current status of a simple receptionist. You definitely needed a raise.

"I mean, if this is being served at his retiring, can't help but wonder what they will do in his funeral."

Miguel couldn't help but genuinely laugh at your comment. You smiled again and gulped.

"I haven't seen your face around here." mumbling you set your eyes on him again, he smirked.

"Same thing. Would've remembered those pretty lips. Preciosa"

He didn't need to explain what that meant since it caused the right effect on you. The kind of effect that would have your skin flushed, and a chill running down your spine. Oh the petty in him was running rampant and there was none to stop him.

"Well, speak for yourself."

"You think I have pretty lips?"

It was disgusting to him how easy he could slip into this old mask he had dropped many years ago. Nearly scary at how natural he still seemed in the arts of flirting.

"The prettiest I've seen so far." You mumbled an octave lower.

But you didn't slack. You were persevering, he gave you that. If only the rest of his colleagues had that, it'd make his job easier. You were pretty. Really pretty, and he was being a resented ass that knew how to indulge.

"I was supposed to say that, sweetheart."

Be it the alcohol, or your sudden raging hormones that sparked a little fire within that he kept feeding with his words, or the lack of sex for the past half year that got you extra bold tonight. It was your night.

"Pretty sure they'd look better on mines."

His brow quirked as your eyes gazed at each other's. Biting your plump and red lips was enough for him make his resolve.

"Wanna try out that theory?"

He put the food and cup down and offered your hand. Once more his morals reminded him of the consequences. But he pushed them back, like everything that made little to keep his mind busy and focused.

You took it, letting him guide you to another milieu of the building. A more secluded area. HR's bathrooms. Not the kind of setting that you had imagined, but given the working areas being closed for the night, neither of you could be picky.

Plus none would take their time to walk this much to relieve themselves. You had an itch and he would scratch it.

A new sense of thrill invaded you as he took you to one bathroom stall. Once the door was locked, Meaty and plump lips landed on yours while he cornered you against the wall. Purse dangled on your shoulder

Red lips limned sin. A sin that he was tainted with the more you both devoured each other.

His hands roamed your romantic body lines, and pulled you impossibly closer to his, but the bathroom was proving to be a nuisance.

He groaned as he separated from you and opened the stall, looking outside for a moment.

"Come" He pulled you out the caged place to get into the special needs one. It was definitely roomier, kinkier even if he knew how to make the most out of the space. The lovely smell of jasmine and floral undertones the area was doused in, helped your senses relax, coaxing you even more into his lips.

His tongue swirled yours, while his hands trapped your head in the ravaging kiss. One of his thighs positioned between your legs, and pushed against your flesh, earning a mewl. Purse long forgotten on the floor.

Seizing the chance he lured your tongue out and sucked it softly, your hips humped his thigh. He smirked into the kiss as his hands slid down your neck and stop at your shoulders. The thin straps of your dress were slid down, the area cupping your breast next.

He pulled out from the kiss and stared down at you. Lust and something darker looming over his eyes. His cologne tickled your senses, and your skin crawled when he pushed you against the wall once more and his tongue skimmed over your neck.

Your senses under attack only urged him to release your breast. Breast that looked as delicious as he had imagined. Perky nipples met his hungry gaze, mouth trailed over the valley between them and suckled over the left one.

Gasping, you held onto the horizontal metallic bar next to you, grounding at the building up sensations. A whimper filtered through your throat as his other hand played and tweaked softly at your lonely breast. His mouth turned on pleasuring both, to then squeeze them together, trying to fit both in his mouth.

"F-Fuck-" Your face turned a bright red as he pulled one softly between his teeth, to then give a deep suck that had you groaning. He released you with a wet pop, nipple glistening with his saliva. A little hickey underneath the nub.

A discreet way of marking you.

His fingers ventured over your back zipper releasing your body from the lavish dress. He picked it up and hooked it on the little contraption attached to the door, preventing it to soil down, despite the place's apparent immaculate state.

And what he saw underneath got his pants tighter at his groin. Your panties only accentuated the dip of your curves as generous hips called him in. Luring him to be lost between them.

He removed his suit and placed it ontop of your dress, sleeves rolled up his elbows, revealing strong and well worked forearms.

Your hands pulled him by the belt buckle and he chucked but quickly gasped as you undid the thing and slid a hand in his pants and caressed his clothed cock. Eyes widening at the sheer size.

"Uh uh, don't back up now, princess."

His tone sending shivers down your spine. You squeezed.

"I'm not." Alcohol made you stupid. And bold. That's why you were a social drinker. You pulled his pants as low as you managed to.

Your hand fumbled with his boxers for a second before taking a hold of his erection. Husky breath fanned on your face as you pumped him with one hand and the other pulled the cotton undergarment down his sculpted thighs.

"Faster, cariño-" He groaned at your pace increasing, " J-Justo así. Dios que rico..." (Just like that. God... that so good)

He mumbled in between raged breaths, one of his hands slid in your panties, fingers dipping between your moist folds. Caressing and rubbing as much flesh as they managed to meet, until he made contact with your clit. You whimpered and your pumping faltered. He slid your panties off your legs.

"No no, keep going" It was hard to please him when you were crumbling upon the ministrations he provided. Your hole slurped one of his fingers, trapping him inside. Erratic as your handjob was, it provided him enough urge to plunge another finger in, stretching bit by bit your tight and now soaked hole.

Your face was blissful as his fingers curled and flexed inside. His phalanges contracting and prodding at the right spots that had you humping his hand, trying to get as much friction inside as possible.

His fingers drenched and your mewls turned into loud groans but he put a hand on your mouth, while he slid in and out with ease. Juices rolling down the back of his palm and pooling on his hand. He nearly laughed at the realization.

He hadn't even fucked you properly and you were already melting and gushing on his hand. And the tightness inside. God, he was gonna enjoy ruining you.

Your breath hitched as he wriggled his fingers deeper. Your hand kept giving him deep yet slow strokes, alternating between pumping and squeezing him.

His ears were full of a wet and sinful song. Your mewlings mixed with the sloshing noises your drenched cunt did pushed him to graze at that swelling and rubbery texture inside you that earned him a yelp. Your hand had long stopped and clung to his shirt, mouth ajar underneath his hand, trying to find the right sound to vocalize.

A muffled sob. Your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed and your pussy gushed. A satisfied smirk plastered over his handsome face while you came. Your arousal staining the floor in droplets.

You looked gorgeous, he had to admit. Flushed cheeks and neck, lust half lidded eyes that stared back at him, begging for more. Chin smeared in lipstick, that trembled with every deep pant you did. So so gorgeous.

"Condom" You breathed, "P-Put it on"

Clever girl. If it wasn't for your words he'd raw you. You amused him. Despite your lust blown mind, you still managed to think coherently.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out one. His phone buzzed with many texts surpassing the twenty. But he put it on plane mode and quickly resumed his revenge. The latex ring was rolled down his shaft, fitting snug and perfectly built at his size.

He cupped your quivering and soaked thighs and sat you on the metallic bar you were holding onto. His mouth busied with yours and his hand guided his engorged tip towards your aching and awaiting flesh.

Miguel bit your lip at the brain splitting sensation your warm and tight pussy provided. Your legs spreaded as wide as they could to take him in completely.

"Dios mío..." He rasped as he pushed in to the brim, your thighs resting on his forearms while your spine rested against the wall. Your jaw clenched at the fullness you were experiencing. Pain and pleasure came in hand in hand. It didn't help he had sheathed in as you were still riding your high.

"You okay, cariño?" A weak nod. His forehead rested against yours, letting  to adjust at his stretching and invading cock. With a roll of his hips he pushed all air away from your lungs.

A hand squeezed his shoulder as the other covered your mouth, preventing from being too loud.

"Good girl" He praised and his hips moved again, keeping a steady pace.

"M-Miguel" You whimpered and writhed, "Wait, wait-"

He chuckled and kissed your neck, helping your discomfort to leave your body. But in truth, you were cumming again. Your legs went around him and clamped tightly. Shallow and erratic breaths flew out your mouth as you came by taking in his cock. Body licked with fire.

"Jesus, babe." He held your thighs tighter as they trembled, "Been a while, huh?"

You nodded and he cooed. A high pitched whimper echoed through the walls and he immediately shut you up with his hand again.

"You gotta tone it down, ok?"

You nodded and kissed him desperately. And it was enough spark for him to move inside. Deep and slow strokes were delivered while he clawed at your ass.

Every stretch increased in pleasure while the discomfort subsided. Never in your life had met someone this big. He got your mind made a puddle. A puddle he enjoyed playing with.

His voice whispered the sweetest and filthiest things his mind could come up with. Noting how you reacted at the filth he plowed in deeper. Your cervix was bullied.

"Harder" barely a whisper

"What was that?" He stopped and you whined

"H-Harder"

He tittered, "You're barely holding it together sweetheart, want me to ruin your pretty pussy? Hm?"

You nodded and urged your hips closer to him.

"Can't say no to that face."

His grip tightened on your ass, his hips accommodated in a different angle and sheathed in once more. Feeling yourself full made your toes curl in again.

He didn't give you time to fully grasp your reality as an onslaught of thrusts were pounded into your squelching hole.

Your spine arched while his hands handled you like a ragdoll on his cock. The only remaining garment on your body were the heels.

Where was he when you needed a new fuck buddy? It didn't matter.

Not when he was punishing your cunt and bullying your cervix in a way none had made you feel before. It was addictive. Ass bounced on his hands with every toe curling thrust.

He left you insides empty with every pull he gave, only to be filled again. And again and again. He had warned you, but you didn't listen. And now you were enjoying and suffering the consequences.

His hot breath fanned over your neck, as much as he wanted to leave you marked as his despite just being a one night stand, he couldn't leave traces.

He didn't know if you had someone. Neither care. All he cared for was that he was getting his anger out and you were enjoying it. You liked it rough.

He stilled and dropped your legs on the floor, the sudden action caused a slit in the condom, he knew he had to stop and change it, but you felt too good and your insides begged to be ruined. You were too cock drunk to notice. He just turned you around and hoisted one of your thighs up, opening you like a book.

He buried in with a swift motion and resumed his relentless thrust, leaving you breathless again. Your hands held tightly on the bar as he pounded on your needy cunt.

The constant slap had your whole frame shaking, even your head, that tried hard to keep inside the sanity line. But this angle provided him not only the perfect spot for him to stimulate both, but a deeper and meaner reaching within.

His chest was filled with pride at every time you gasped, panted, moaned, begged and wailed his name. Unlike her.

By God he was angry. Angry at the belittling words of him not being man enough to keep with stupid antics. 

You sobbed as your frame shook with such force it was mind shattering. His hands held such a grip on yours he was glad you had that dress to cover up the bruises.

How dared she? How Dana could say such things when he was making this beautiful stranger he met minutes ago so blissful and happy? How could she say she was left unsatisfied when he was giving it all to you? Wetness didn't lie. And you had not only squirted, but kept him drenched and welcomed and asked no questions.

A perfect subject.

You didn't care. Too focused on trying to not go deranged at the pleasure you've certainly been lacking. Your insides twitched. You looked even better than her when fucked out. Sounded even, unlike the annoying quiet moans Dana gave him, making him feel unsure of his performance in bed.

He slapped your ass, a red mark blooming on your right supple cheek.

Dana hated being manhandled too roughly. But you loved it, encouraged it even. He didn't know who to blame to get to this point. Himself for letting things to run deeper until they turned into this wretched anger, or Dana for getting used to his temper and approach him once things were calm enough.

Feeding this harmful behavior just for the sake of not letting him go. Sometimes happy moments with her weren't enough for him, but he was too comfortable to just go and start meeting new people. He wasn't one for social mingling, but tolerated the whim enough to get him some favors among administration.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was cheating out of spite, he'd definitely ask your number for a round two.

You came with the most delicious sound he had ever heard, igniting his own peak.

He emptied inside you with an angry growl. Thick blobs of his cum spilling into the condom. He threw his head back and relished at the release. Anger finally subsiding.

He let your thigh go and pulled out. A few droplets had escaped through the now broken condom. Rolling his eyes he discarded it and cleaned himself up. His fingers wiping the leaking cum off your flushed cunt .

"You still with me, preciosa?"

You landed on the floor with an oof. And laughed. He cradled you in his arms with a chuckle. Your Bambi legs trying to get a hold of themselves as you stood.

"That was..." You shook your head with a laugh, "Too bad I didn't met you six months ago."

He smirked and wiped the sweat off his forehead and body, trying to tone down his tussled looks. You reached for your panties and soon got dressed.

In truth, six months ago he was on the beach, having an impromptu vacation with Dana, celebrating on of her achievements.

His hands reached for your zipper once he saw you struggling with it.

"Thanks."

The long forgotten purse on the ground was picked up, your hands reached for the item you were looking for. You handed him a couple of makeup remover towelettes.

"Gracias." He mumbled as he left the stall. You followed only to giggle at your reflection. All the money invested at the stylist, gone.

Chin flushed by the smeared lipstick, mascara had ran out, just like the eyeliner. Frizzy hair, and flushed out cheeks.

Each of you cleaned up, wiping away the immorality of what just happened. Bit by bit, you started to look the way you were an hour ago. The tussled hair only added a little more appeal to your looks.

"Sure you can walk?"

You sighed, "It's kinda uncomfortable to walk after months without sex. But yeah."

You corrected your eyeshadow and then took the lipstick.

"God take his time but surely never forgets"

Again, he laughed softly. Maybe he should ask for your phone. The screen however was alight in his phone and he exhaled, annoyed.

"Thanks... Miguel right? That was amazing."

The last chivalry act of him was to take your hand and kiss the back of your palm.

"Thank you, hermosa. Have a good night."

He left.

As you gave an approving look in the mirror and mentally congratulated yourself for such feat, Miguel had left the building.

You were home with a wide smile, unaware of the ruse you were dragged in.

Monday came and you went into working mode. Receiving the guests and other executives with a smile was part of your job.

The Cinderella illusion had vanished, leaving you with a new expectation no man could fill. Thighs rubbed together at the memory.

Your evening was spent between organizing files, receiving calls, giving information to people, arranging meetings, and dispatching the couriers.

You had just received a package, the name Dana D'Angelo etched on the delivery tag. Thirty minutes more and you'd be able to go home. Hands fixed your ponytail for the third time.

Your fingers typed in the information as you scheduled the meetings, when a brunette with a short bob approached.

"Hi. By any chance a package with the name of D'Angelo came in?"

Her smile was disarming, she had the cool pretty and rich girl aura irradiating from her. The kind of aura that would make people stare her way while entering a room.

"Yup! Just got it actually." You rose from your seat to fetch the package. A little wedding magazines bundle and some information pamphlets regarding venues and other wedding relating procedures.

"There you go. Sign here, please." You pointed at the space as her hand slid the pencil on the paper. Penmanship impeccable as you noticed an engagement ring on her left hand. Shiny and perfectly snugged in her finger.

Lucky girl.

Your smile stretched at the thought. Of course pretty girls like her had a wonderful looking man as a future husband.

" Dana, cariño. Hurry"

The familiar voice made you snap your head up at the man. Much to your horror Miguel stood before you, a golden band on his ring finger, matching Dana's.

Throat dried and soured, like if you had been forced to swallow a tall glass of ashes. Heart thumped so violently you had to clutch your chest for a second as your eyes locked on eachother.

His eyes widened to then narrow upon recognizing you. A subtle scowl twitched on his upper lip.

Realization hit both harder than a car crash, so sudden, unexpected, and terrifying. Unmistakably he was the same man that had gave you the most toe curling fuck of your life, the same man that didn't wear his ring while plowing into you in a bathroom stall after a few minutes of flirting.

The same man that frowned your way after Dana got her package. Piercing eyes seized you. There were no longer lust, but apprehension and mistrust in them. Neither of you needed words to understand the devastating consequences that would unfold if your little dirty secret came into light.

Homewrecker

The thought made you pale. You had fucked an engaged man. You had been lured and used by an engaged man. You were part of a lie the brunette wasn't even aware of. And right now you wished to be as blissfully ignorant as she was. Unaware of your role in this back stabbing and heart wrenching lie.

No no no!

Dana walked ahead and Miguel followed. Nausea rising to your throat, your stomach clenched in such way upon witnessing them kissing and move towards the entrance.

How could he? No, no. How could you?

Slut

His hand wrapping her smaller shoulders in a loving embrace while he shot a contempt and skin crawling glare your way.

A Shutup and don't get in my way look.

If only the earth could swallow and spit you out elsewhere far far away. A silent threat. A threat that you weren't sure of keeping to yourself. So many questions flooded your brain at once.

Like a miriad of voices were urging you to do the right thing and spare the woman the heartache of discovering it on her own, damned be the consequences. But his eyes and the promise within them made your racing thoughts to stop. He was a different person from the one you met and he didn't need words to make his point clear.

Keep your mouth shut.

Whore

Another man got in your peripheral as he greeted you. A visitor. Head spun, voices so loud you considered in yelling them to stop.

Instead, you forced a strained and nervous smile upon the visitor that approached you.

"Welcome to Alchemax. What can I do for you?"

You'll burn.

Taglist:

@death-moth-art @miss-taura @xylianasblog @serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @tayleighuh @8xbygirl @artyanimi @ittybxttykxttytxtty @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu

@huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt

Header made by me

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hello there! This question isn’t so much about popularity as it is about feeling lonely in fandom spaces. I’m in a relatively small fandom where it’s easy to “run into” the same users who write fanfic and draw fanart a lot. Over the years I’ve tried doing all the usual things to make fandom friends, like commenting a LOT on fanfic when new works are posted, being friendly in my author’s notes, being friendly on tumblr, complimenting artists works and reblogging and just generally trying to share the love so to speak.

People will reblog my art on here, but on AO3 I tend to get crickets on most of my stuff. Especially on fics for my OTP. My OTP is notttt popular in the fandom. It’s actually a lot of people’s NOTP because it “takes away” from the canon couple. I’ve accepted a long time ago that I’m going to get less readers because of the shipping stuff alone. But even on my works that aren’t shipping focused at all, it’s just crickets.

It just kinda sucks to try so hard to make fandom buddies and see them all having fun together and constantly feel like the kid sitting alone in the corner. I keep wondering if people in the fandom don’t like my fics just because of the shipping thing because I know I’m not a bad writer. But like I said, I’ve tried reaching out to people, be encouraging and show joy at what they create, but I just keep wondering what I’m doing wrong to make fellow fans not want to be friends with me. I’ve been focusing on just doing my own thing but yeah, it sucks not having anybody to fangirl with.

First of all anon, *hugs*. Being lonely sucks, and I'm sorry to hear you're in that situation.

When it comes to the other folks in your fandom, I don't think it's necessarily that they don't want to be friends with you. I think you might just need to do a little extra legwork to get in the friendship door.

It's not really fair, but it is kind of human nature, that if there is a perceived difference with someone else, we tend to keep them at a bit of a distance. It doesn't mean we dislike them! It just means that it takes more effort for us to get past that difference and see them as a friend. The more we do it, of course, the easier it gets and you might not even notice the hiccup anymore - in person.

You're probably in the "acquaintance zone," if you'll allow me to use the phrase. People probably have a generally positive impression of you because you're nice and you're friendly and you're encouraging. But if most of their conversations are happening in a ship-centric venue, for example, then you're not going to have access to the full spectrum of community with them.

You mention that other folks see your OTP as a NOTP. Do you feel the same way in reverse? They might assume that you do, and that's what's keeping you out of those convos. If you actually don't mind their ship and simply prefer your own, you could always attempt to make a foray in that direction? Let them know you don't mind being exposed to their shipping talk?

Another thing you could try would be to identify the multishippers. In my experience, those are the folks who are most open to befriending folks who don't ship the main pairing. They can see possibilities all over the place, and they're happy to be exposed to new ideas.

Small fandoms can be rough when you're into a niche part of it ❤️ Let's see how others handle your situation.

You can also find this question and answer on Dreamwidth.

[nkogneatho]

𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

: ̗̀➛synopsis: You were scared of falling in love but will you change your mind when you meet someone who actually shows you how you are filled with so much love?

#mlist #commission #taglist

—wc: 1.5k

—cw: gn!reader, fwb to lovers (ig), hurt/comfort, mild smut, cockwarming, receiving head, abandonment issues, past trauma, commitment issues, anxiety and crying, fluff, soft gojo, not proofread (its 2 am im sorry)

—a/n: so my mind decided to remind me of my trauma on a Wednesday night so I pulled this out of my ass. Tell me what you think if you read it :)) Reblogs much appreciated.

It fucked you up. Body fragile as a glass, mind clouded dark. The crippling fear emerged on the surface once again. That same old feeling. The feeling of abandoning someone before they abandon you.

You pitied yourself. What a pathetic person to get walked over by all those people. You despised every single decision you made. That included to kindle a relationship with this man.

Gojo Satoru. The strongest, they say. Hair whiter than snow, eyes glinting in light like the ocean waves turn diamond in sun.

He loved you. In fact, he loved you so much it scared you. The anxiety creeped up your back when he said those words to you.

"I love you."

He loves me. He said he loves me. But so did every other guy. He is lying. He'll leave.

Can you blame the traumatized mind to come to such conclusions?

Gojo did expect this reaction from you. He knew you were scared or love and commitment. Although the man felt the need to confess or he were to regret it for the rest of his life. Your knees met the floor with a loud thud, arms hanging like they were a soft toy.

"Do you know what you're saying?" Your voice cold.

"I do. I love you. And I know it's something you never wanted to hear given this relationship—fuck is this even a relationship?" His palm rubbed his forehead, feeling the rough sensation of his bangs

He was right to ask that question. Was this a relationship? You both started as just fuck buddies. You set a bunch of rules (which were tampered later anyway.)

Rule No. 1, no interference with other party's personal life.

Eh. He broke that when he started coming to your workplace with a bouquet of tulips every Monday. He knew Mondays were harsh. So you didn't complain because it did help to get through the rough day. Rule No. 1 successfully broken.

Rule No. 2, dates are okay sometimes but not a lot. Maybe twice a month.

Now, you were the one to alter this rule. Dates might be forbidden but not coming over to his place and treating it like your own home. His place was way more spacious given his generational wealth. It was easier to focus on work in such a silent and lone environment. The rule only got broken when you decided to move in. Well, you would save the time to call him over or you traveling here just to fuck.

By now, he had probably bullied his dick inside you in every single room. You still remembered his words.

"I want to fuck you in every square inch of this house, y/n."

And he did.

He fucked you on the big navy blue velvet layered couch, not giving a shit if your juices stained the expensive material. He'd just buy another one.

He spread your legs and ate you out on the dinner table on that one evening when the takeout took too long to arrive. Your fingerbeds grabbed his head so hard, it might've broken his skull as you orgasmed. He later thanked the delivery guy for being late to which the boy walked out with a confused look.

He made your wrap your legs tightly around him as you cockwarmed him on the kitchen counter. Brows furrowed, desperately wanting to grind. But your locked thighs around his slutty waist, not letting him do so.

Every square inch, he fucked you in. So Rule No.2 was off the table.

Rule No. 3, No catching of serious feelings or saying I love you.

Gojo didn't recently fall for you. He was caught in this way before you realized. Maybe he even doesn't remember it himself when he did.

"What do you mean? You just broke rule 3, Toru."

"Fuck those rules. I don't even know why we had them in the first place. Look at us y/n," he tried to reason. "We never follwed them so don't give me that crap." His voice was elevating to a higher octave. You hated it. You don't like yelling. It triggers the tinnitus in your ear.

Tears started rummaging down your dry cheeks. "Look at me. I know you're lying."

"Baby, I am not. I know it's hard to believe given your past but just trust me on this one." Yes he knew about your previous failed relationships and the effect it had on you. Which is why he took so long to confess. Each day, calculating the outcome. So at some point, he did know how you'd react. Maybe he'll lose you forever.

"Why?" You questioned him. You felt like you were a broken soul. Used and abused mentally. Taken advantage of the innocent mind and abandoned when you were to ask for the real love. You started hating the word love, ironically.

I love you. It sounds preposterous in your brain. What a fool would someone be to ever believe those words.

"Why? Look at yourself," he said.

"I do. Everyday. Which is why I asked the question. I am nothing but someone drowning. But I do not want to be saved. I don't want a savior, Toru! It makes me feel pathetic and weak." By now, you were wailing and screaming.

But he didn't interrupt. He let you scream your heart out. Maybe that was the last option he could choose to make you face your actual feelings.

"You done?" He asked. You were sniffing, catching your breath from all the yelling.

"Toru, all I see myself is as a broken soul. Why would you ever love...this" you pointed at yourself.

"You fool. Look in my eyes and tell me if I lie, but all i see in you is love. It's funny how you hate that feeling yet you're filled with it, y/n." His gaze softened. "You say you don't want a savior. Do you realize you don't need it in the first place. Because it's you who saves others."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember, Ginger was abandoned in the rain when we saw her the other day? No one cared about her but you did. You fed it canned cat food a took her to a shelter. You named her. You cared for her." He intertwined his hand in yours.

"Y/n. I used to wake up every single day in this apartment feeling absolute shit about what happened with Suguru and others. But when you started barging in on random days, that's when I started to feel a little better." You understood it. It is lonely to live alone with your own thoughts haunting you in this big pace.

"You made this house a home. You don't need a savior because you are one." he claimed.

"When did you—you started loving me?" You asked between hiccups.

"Sweetheart. I fall for your every single second. Everytime I wake up next to you. Everytime I see you smile. Whenever you skip on the same colored tiles on the footpath. I love all of you." That is when you realized how selfish you've been. Taking and taking his love but giving none back. He did so much for you. But you were about to leave him in a fear of something that might never happen.

"What if you leave just like all of them?" you asked.

"Give it one more chance. Who knows? Maybe I'll stick around for the rest of our lives." He wore a soft smile as he said those words, affirming you. You started crying again, but this time, it was due to happiness.

"If you never leave, I promise to love you more than myself."

"Oh, baby," he hugged you a tightly. "I love you so fucking much and I am so happy right now."

He pulled away and his lips crashed against yours. It's weird. You've kissed hundred times before but this one felt different. Maybe, because it was filled with love and acceptance.

You came to a realization. You don't know what the future holds. It is not the fear of abandonment that scares you. It's the feeling of you giving away all your love and them not giving any back. You always swam ocean for people who couldn't even meet you at the shore.

But Gojo never left your side. All this time, he was swimming right behind you, concealing you from all the harm. So if anyone's worth the risk, it's him.

Oh. Gojo Satoru. What a beautiful man you are.

[robiinurheart33]

I’m SUCH a sucker for drunk calls/texts confessing their love and y’all know I gotta project it onto ghoap (buckle up guys its a long one I had to break it into two parts SORRY) pt. 2

Soap’s blood is pumping. He can feel it heat up in his cheeks in the form of a blush, giggles bubbling up in his throat and his mind loose enough to just sew together a semblance of a bad idea.

Deployment had been boring at first. Stuck at home with unending nervous energy, fingers twitching and aching for the solid feel of a gun, the rough texture of his vest, the adrenaline clapping him on the shoulder before shooting through his veins like a drug. It was so unendingly dull. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at his apartment in Glasgow, and their break time was too short to visit his Ma.

So why not invite a few buddies out to drink? No harm, no foul.

Well, that’s what he initially thought. A couple hours later of wheezing and pounding of the table, shoes sticking to the ground and the smell of booze wafting though the air, Soap could confidently say that he was wasted. He’s leaning heavily on his buddy, chum, pal, that he for the life of him cannot remember right now. He’s swaying from side to side, feeling unusually breathless as he mumbles what could be the song that’s playing right now. He’s not sure. He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching a bit anxiously at the nape of his neck. Soap’s not sure if he wants to cry or laugh or vomit right about now. Pretty sure that’s a sign to fuck off, pass out on his bed and deal with the rest tomorrow.

Soap pushes off his… friend? Wait, did he even come with him? And heads towards the general direction where the toilet is. Might as well not look like a homeless person before heading home, wouldn’t wanna scare anyone. His head is spinning, pounding, loud, loud, loud, and nowhere near done with its madness. Soap slams his hand on the wall beside the toilet door, squinting and hoping the door he’s reaching for is the actual door, not it’s double. He does, in fact, get the right door (small miracles), and pushes it open.

He fumbles with his zipper and exhales heavily as he relieves himself. The man beside him in the toilet exits with a sniffle and stumbles out, the music getting louder for a second before the door closes again. Soap leans heavily against the sink counter and washes his hands, placing his fingers together and splashing water onto his face. Soap drags his hands down before greyish-blue eyes look back at him with a piercing stare. He blinks, and re-evaluates again. His hair is flopping to one side, weighed down by sweat. His face is flushed and his skin glows slightly with a thin sheen of sweat, his freckles just shy of being seen under his rosy cheeks, eyebags evident through the haze. He looks down and- oh. It appears his attempt at splashing his face with water wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped, half of his shirt drenched in water. Soap tugs loosely at the corner of his sleeves, releasing the bundled up fabric at his pits. He frowns in discomfort as the sticky heat of his arms lay back down against his skin. He sighs once more, not really feeling like his lungs are filling with oxygen, turning around and laying his hip against the counter lazily before pulling out his phone. 0237. He swipes down on his home screen and pouts at the “no new notifications” tab. He unlocks his phone and swipes through his contacts, unsure of who to drunk text at this hour. Gaz is probably asleep by now, if anyone has a spotless sleeping schedule, it’d be him. Price would have his head on a platter if he texted him about anything non-military business. Laswell, no. Ghost?

Huh.

Ghost…could be someone he could text. Soap isn’t quite sure if he would be awake right now. Do ghosts even need sleep? He huffs at his little comment, tapping on their chat together. Do they have the kind of relationship where soap can dramatically drunk text Ghost at 2am right now? Soap lets out a little bemused huff when he sees that he reached a dead end to their chat after one swipe of his thumb. Of course. Right bastard doesn’t text anyone. He tilts his head up to meet the flickering white light of the bathroom ceiling, watching water damage and mold streak across the concrete. Ghost… how is he during deployment? Does he still wear that mask around the relative safety of his own apartment? Does he have any hobbies? Does he go to the gym as well? Does he long to be back on base? Does he long to be back in the chaos of the war zone, alongside soap? Does he think of soap? Does he ever think to- before Soap knows what he’s even doing, his fingers clumsily type out a greeting.

Hwlli

That’s not quite right.

Gellp

Nope.

Hellu

Oh my god.

Hello

There we go! Soap smiles giddily at his screen, bringing it closer to his face before very carefully writing a much more sophisticated and brilliant follow up.

U up?

He’s the smartest person in the entire world. He supposes a part of himself preens at the thought of even just being able to text someone like Ghost. Big, bad, Ghost. He decidedly does not giggle like a schoolgirl. Just as his mind starts to wander back to the world outside the sickly bathroom, his phone vibrates, and looks down in confusion.

Drunk?

Soap frowns.

Who

You.

Wanna try anf gues, Lt?

You are drunk.

He says it like it’s a fact, like he knows everything. It annoys Soap, much more than it should. He supposes that it could maybe be something to do with the massive amounts of alcohol thrumming through his bloodstream at the moment, but he knows for a fact that it slices through his brain, presses against his throat and contracts his chest.

Yiu think so?

I know so.

Soap thinks Ghost is being a real dick right now.

Ittle know iy all

You’re drunk, Johnny. What do you want me to do about it?

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny. His head spins. If he closes his eyes and imagines hard enough, he can hear the raspy gravel of Ghost’s solid, thick British accent murmuring commanders into his ear. Speaking of noises, his brain starts to register more of the music from outside, the start of a song that Soap can vaguely remember, but he can’t quite put his finger on it right now. The electric guitar, drums and bass all purr in his subconciousness, his lips parting over the words, moving silently as he tries to pinpoint exactly where in the song he is right now. There’s this tune… think of you.. repeat, until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…do I wanna know? Soap whispers, his mind curling and his ribs creaking. He feels like he’s truly, deeply losing it now, fingers slowly loosening over his phone. His head feels too big and his cheeks are burning, his shirt too tight against his chest and arms and his toes too restricted under his shoes. Everything was funny and everything was too bright and shiny and yearning and blurring and he wishes Ghost was here and he wishes everything was different and he wishes life could just be a little bit easier and-

His phone is vibrating.

Crawling back to you.

[sgiandubh]

I actually am a shipper so I wasn’t trying to make the rounds to stir shit. I haven’t been around for too long only about 2 years or less. I just got upset when I saw the Getty pictures of Sam’s hand on Eleanor’s hip and hand on her back and then the fan pictures and video too of his hand on her back and giving her hug made me start to question everything since he does that with Cait too. I’m sorry for giving the wrong impression.

But I took a little time to reflect and remembered videos and images we got of Sam and Cait from Outlander promo this year. Between the moments at 92Y where Sam gave Cait a kiss on her temple and rubbed her back as well as the end when posing with Sophie in Rik. To the looks and knowing glances he gave her during interviews and even giving her a pat on the leg I believe in one interview. I overreacted initially and now that I put things into perspective, I can see the difference. There’s an intimacy and connection between Sam and Cait that comes across in promo that isn’t there with Eleanor.

Sorry again for coming across the wrong way. I truly was just looking for some reassurance initially

Dear (returning) Weary and Distraught Anon,

That would be very strange, because it really (REALLY) looks very similar to an Anon @bat-cat-reader showed me perhaps ten minutes before you chimed in.

However, since this is a plausible deniability situation, please accept my apologies, even if I still am not 100% sure about you.

I was just writing a post about body language at tonight's BAFTA preview of TCND, but since you've made reasonable amends, I am including it here for you, Anon:

S&C at OL's S7 Premiere in New York, June 9, 2023:

S & Tomlinson tonight:

Please note the following:

Tomlinson is completely disengaged, watches confidently the press people in front of her. She does not smile. Translation: I am a woman who just showed the press, the PR people and potential employers my latest project. I am a pro. I am very married and I know this hunk belongs to someone else. I am only playing PR games in *urv's mind.

S does the same. He uses his left hand as a completely non-committal blocking shield. Colgate smile is somewhat too calibrated to be spontaneous, the result is pleasant (which is to say 'decent bordering on meh'). Translation: we are all buddies and I (S) hope you liked our wee series. I really, seriously enjoyed working with these people and I am relieved we were allowed to promote this series in the middle of the strike turmoil. My well-rehearsed Optimistic Gaze Nr. 4 hides very well my real thoughts, that even @sgiandubh can't telegraph to her readers. And these thoughts have nothing to do with being here (note to readers: above thoughts probably involve a living-room near GLA).

Alfred Enoch: he is the only relaxed person in this picture and the only one whose smile perfectly aligns with his eyes (both sincere, open and enthusiastic). His arms' position is completely natural. Translation: I am over the moon to be here, I managed to work during a really rough patch and I really hope someone has noticed me tonight. Maybe I'll get another gig soon. These people are my friends, but tonight, it's all about myself: it is me I am showing off, selling and promoting here. Hire me: I am the funny one.

Bonus (dotted arrow shows where S's gaze is directed):

I think that needs no further comments. I rest my case, Anon.

Thank you for clarifying, I think you were brave to come back. Don't be a stranger, if I managed to not scare the bejesus out of you, yet.

PS: who knew my Business Intelligence uni credits would come in so handy, in the most unlikely of situations?

[meowmeowriley]

Hi MeowMeow Costume anon here sorry it’s taken a couple days for me to reply life got busy finding one’s honour is harder then I thought!

You want my autistic head canons for Zuko? Strap in for some unhinged rambling because I have ✨thoughts✨ this will be long

(CW: implied child abuse (Fuck Ozai))

Zuko likes music (Iroh mentiones he’s talented with the Tsungi horn) and his swords I also think he would have picked up dancing at some point with how he moved during dance of the dragons.

When he’s around people he trusts he emotes more with his face and masks less in general and I’d say if he felt safe enough he’d do more overt (for him) stimms like humming, minor rocking or tugging on his hair Iroh would be one of his safe people and eventually the gaang would be too

*I don’t think he’d have very obvious stimms in general being raised royal he’d be expected to act a certain way and hand flaps are not it. Also flaming 💩lord Ozai would have seen any aberrations as weakness and stamped that shit out fast

*I honestly think it could be one of the reasons the flaming 💩lord despises Zuko being inherently different would be a weakness in his eyes and reflect badly on him

I think he and May get along well because they’re both autistic and are a safe space for each other. she has trouble processing her emotions he has trouble controlling his they make good emotional counter balances

He cares so much about the people and animals around him even his enemies a strong sense of justice is a common sign of autism and speaking out of turn was the initial reason for his banishment.

He’s so socially awkward he doesn’t know how to talk with people instead of at them his entire pep talk to himself and subsequent introduction to the gaang when he tries to join them is peak “how do you do fellow kids” and his “that’s rough buddy” is as iconic as it is socially inept.

The guy totally hyper fixated on hunting the Avatar and when he could no longer find his purpose in it and realised he was wrong he did not cope

He has no tackt. none. and he takes things at face value and he hates lying his humour is also a little left leaning and he tries to relate to others and their experiences as a way of bonding.

While he’s not a prodigy fire bender like his sister he found ways around his limitations that helped accentuate his natural talents like his sword fighting (dancing would help with sword work) being incorporated into his bending (I don’t remember any other character bending with weapons).

He’d know a lot about tea from Iroh and I think he enjoyed working in the tea shop

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk!

I hope these make sense it’s kinda late now but this was fun to write thanks for reading my insane rambles :D

Also in response to the (non gendered) Prince! line you gave me so much surprise gender euphoria I cried 😭🫠🥹 sincerely thank you. I’m going with he/him pronouns atm but he/they is something I want to look into.

if you don’t mind me asking what are your pronouns?

I’ll probably send another ask in the next couple of days to annoy you with lol but in the meantime have a great day!

Sorry I took so long to get back to this, but damn I needed it today so I guess it's good I kept this in reserve. ❤

Holy shit, I can't unsee Zuko as autistic now. Like it's impossible. He's so perfectly coded to be on the spectrum. He's generally monotone, until he's not, and that's always when he's dealing with big emotions. He'd be a lip biter for sure.

Zuko doing dance as a stim 😍 the first time the Gaang sees him dancing when he thinks he's alone, they'd be so supportive, and have no idea what that would mean to him.

Fire lord Zuko infodumping about tea to some random person who tried to ask if he'd like them to make him some, as he heats the tea himself with his bending, and damn if that isn't the best tea that servant has ever had in their life.

Until next time my non gendered Prince Zuko! (Which will be in like, a few minutes, when I get to your other ask. Again sorry for the wait 😭 I'm bad at this)

[krysanthii]

I wonder if it was necessary after killing Julia to talk to Richter. Olrox had every right to kill Julia because he wanted to avenge the person he loved because she’d killed him. What did Richter got to do to this? Olrox stood over her corpse and could’ve just walked away and leave Richter alone he didn’t have to kneel down to explain to the boy because I doubt any of that shit Olrox explaining his reason seemed to even registered.

What do you want Richter to do or say? “Gee that’s rough buddy I’m sorry my mom did that to you :(“

All Richter probably heard was blood rushing over his ears and seeing a big scary vampire looming over him. I don’t think a child is going to comprehend someone who just murdered his mother. Bruce Wayne’s didn’t need an explanation when his parents were gunned down by Joe Chill. He still became Batman and a crime fighter.

I just see it as gloating in a way or just wanted to let it out but is a ten year old going to do? How does that benefit Olrox and Richter?

[katherinezeetajones]

Cherry bomb

Vic x female reader | a little bit of angst, a little bit of drama, fluff

An idea I got after the ending of episode 15 where instead of Kate Powell, you are the one who was sent to sub in for Warren. And in the midst of her and Theo's rough patch... Vic doesn't like your arrival one bit.

You're welcomed with open arms as you enter station 19's beanery, everyone being all smiles, Theo and Travis—your best buddies dating back to a decade ago—welcoming you the warmest.

You spent the remainder of the night getting to know everyone—Herrera, Gibson, Warren; whom you're replacing for a while, Sullivan, everyone except for one person, who stands in the back of all your interactions with everyone, refusing to speak directly to you.

Vic Hughes.

And you are not a person who likes starting things off on the wrong foot with anyone.

As it gets late in the night, your new colleagues are starting to go home, filing out one by one.

Except for Vic Hughes, who seems to be in her own world, cleaning the kitchen counter with a troubled expression.

So you decide to approach her, making your way across the very same counter she's cleaning with a rag.

"hey," you said to her plainly, hands in your pants pockets.

She looks up at you for a split second... And looks back down at her work. "Hm," she mutters quietly, just to let you know she heard you.

Okay, not exactly the response you're looking for.

"it's Hughes, right?" You try to start a conversation. "I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves,"

Vic sets the rag down, sighing as she looks up at you. "No, how about we don't do this?"

"do what?" You crease your eyebrows in confusion, much to her dismay. "I just wanted to say hi,"

She shakes her head, sighing. "I'm sorry, you know what; it's... been quite a day for me, not fair of me taking it out on you. I'll just call it a day," she turns on her heels, walking out of the beanery... Leaving you sitting on the counter stool all alone, under the dimming fluorescent overhead lights.

—

You've been subbing for Warren for almost a month at this point, and your speculation was right; Vic has something against you, but you can't figure out what.

Doesn't help that she looks at you like that most of the time.

You're sure it's probably the look of someone who wants to kill you for being in 19, but your brain doesn't know any better than to interpret Vic's facial expressions as something other than 1.) Vic Hughes is a gorgeous, gorgeous woman,

and 2.) Vic Hughes wants nothing to do with you,

So that takes you to point 3.) You may have a little crush on her.

-

You're wrapping up the hoses, putting them back up on the shelving inside the gear room as the day turns into evening. Not a lot of calls today, and you figure you might just go home once your shift is done. No use sticking around, since Gibson is making pancakes from the leftovers inside the fridge—using nearly week old ingredients. Nope.

Suddenly, the door to the gear room bursts open—then it shuts closed right as soon as it happened.

Then you hear sobbing.

You walk towards the source of the sound to investigate...

It's Vic, sobbing on the floor, hugging her knees.

You gingerly decide to approach her. "Hey... Hughes,"

She jolts in your presence, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in the room. "Fuck! It's... No, I'm... you didn't see anything!"

She scowls at you as she tries to stand up, but stumbles on her own leg, and you steady her; gently guiding her to sit back down. "Hey, it's, it's okay," You said softly, hands on her arms. "I'm not gonna tell anyone,"

Her scowl softens at the look of genuine concern on your face and the sound of your voice, her face melting back into her previous sobbing. "Shit... I didn't think anyone would be here..."

You sit next to her, leaning on the shelves. "What happened?"

"...none of your business," she answers through hics of sobs, hugging her knees tighter around herself.

You try to make sense of this. "I'm sorry," is all you can offer.

Vic looks at you, but not meeting your eyes. "... It's not... Not your fault,"

"... Well, it's just that I'm just getting the feeling that you don't like me very much," you said softly.

She manages a small chuckle, a mirthless one. "I have been a bit of a jackass lately,"

"not that much," you shrug, trying to calm her down, despite yourself. "At least you didn't ignore me during calls,"

Vic exhales a long sigh, eyes still watery. "I'm sorry, newbie," she mutters with a shaky breath. "I was going through my own thing... And... You came in the wrong time, in the wrong place..."

You nod, trying to understand where she's coming from. "I get it," you said with an even tone. "You look like you're going through a lot right now,"

She looks at you for a while, searching your face... Then she shakes her head with a small laugh. "...You remind me of Ripley,"

You furrow your brows, miffed. "The fire chief Ripley? He's like, 50!"

Vic let out an unexpected chortle, taken aback by the sudden turn of mood. "He was 43!" She argues, eyes wide. "And also, I wasn't implying that you're old—I was just..."

Then it hit you. "Oh," you said quietly.

She quiets down too. "yeah, Ripley was... my fiance," she shrugs, hugging her knees a little less. "Your face, for a split second... It reminds me of him. Which is crazy, because you don't even look anything like him, I guess... I guess it's the vibes or something? I don't know,"

"wow," you mutter quietly. "This is the first time I've ever been compared to someone's dead fiance,"

Vic playfully pushes you off with her elbows, a small smile on her lips. "Shut up,"

"so what happened?" You try again, diverting the subject. "what got you coming in here crying?"

Her smile falls. "Yeah. Uh... I just... I guess I got dumped, I'm not sure. Maybe it's a mutual dumping, or something,"

"how can you not be sure?" You ask, a little confused.

"it's just, we both kinda... Drifted apart, and when comes time to have... The Talk, it's over as soon as it started,"

"who the hell would dump someone like you?" You ask, not expecting to sound so forward.

Vic raises her eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean, someone like me?"

You wince... 'Whoops', you think to yourself. No taking that back now. "I mean... Someone like you... someone witty, wears your heart on your sleeve, you talk to patients like you talk to family, that's so amazing, you're..."

You have to stop talking now.

"...you're amazing."

...And you've done it.

Vic looks at you, dazed. "...what?"

You nod, damned it all. "Yeah, funny story... I have a little crush on you... Ever since the night I started subbing here,"

Vic looks taken aback, but not in a bad way. "...you have a crush on me? Even though I was an ass to you?"

You shrug. "Kind of,"

She looks at you... And then laughs, a little bashful. "You... Wow, newbie. I didn't know you like girls,"

"you didn't ask,"

"I'm... Flattered," Vic looks flustered as she says it. "I... Huh, I was... You know, I was an ass to you... Because you came in the wrong time, subbing in for Warren, then Theo and Travis welcoming you like that—I thought I was being replaced, I thought you and Theo were—"

Your eyes widen. "No, fuck no! Theo is definitely not my type!"

She laughs, despite herself. "I shouldn't have assumed," she straightens her legs, slowly siddling closer to you. "And... Well, I don't know if you know, but... I was dating Theo,"

You look lost for a while... Then you connect the dots. "Oh, so..." You recount with your fingers. "...you had it out against me because you think... I'll come between you and Theo?"

Vic looks embarrassed now. "...something like that," she shrugs. "What I didn't expect was... You know, you having a crush... on me,"

You laugh. "It's kind of hard not to have a crush on you,"

"I am pretty amazing, huh?" She nudges you with her shoulder, the feeling of her against you making you fluster.

So you decide to go for it. "so... since you just broke up... Guessing I can't take you out to dinner yet?"

Vic laughs, bashful. "Let's... Give it a minute,"

"so that's a yes?" You ask her, a little hopeful.

"...it's a yes," Vic nods, slowly standing up. She offers you a hand, and you take it to stand up. "Let's get out of here, the dust is starting to get under my nose,"

You follow her out, not noticing the flush on Vic's cheeks as she resumes work.

She looks back at you with a small smile as you branch off to your own tasks, and you give her a smile back.

Add that to point 4.), You now have a future date with Vic Hughes to look forward to.

[omenics]

[𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄]’𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐗 , the overblot gang + kalim, malleus, & epel.

..in which [name] has peak music taste. gn reader. — i am falling back into metal and its amazing so ofc [name] HAS to like it too 😊 however im falling down the spiritbox hole again so itll rlly just be based on that

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

little man is insulted that youd listen to metal

i dont see him listening to it at all

hes like my nonna who physically recoils when she hears it

anyways say ur phone magically came to twst with you and all of ur playlists are still there so boom

play whitechapel and he explodes. bro goes off with ur head for the whole year and you walk with SHAME

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

bro probably listens to deftones

i can see him listening to deftones

this is my hc

but is deftones metal 🤨 idk man it says its alternative metal so yeag

you can probably play any music on the aux and he wouldnt mind i think?? but i see him hating country because me too leona

but if you dont look like the type of person who listens to metal (bc me too) then hes like damn alr

if he did tho i think hed like whitechapel idk but i donr see him liking death metal or just vv heavy stuff

THIS IS TURNING JNTO WHAT BANDA SOME CHARACTERS WOULD LIKE INSTEAD OF THEM EITHER HATING OR LOVING THE MUSIC HELP ME

AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

a man of class who doesnt listen to metal but respects it bc hes like the only one here who would most likely know it takes talent

stan azul bc i do

no but hed probably enjoy the 1.5 songs that dont involve the screaming or growling, so probably hickory creek from whitechapel or constance by spiritbox yk

anyways azul does not like it but bro wont make u do the walk of shame bc of it like RIDDLE

idk what else to put but i can see him liking a little bit of ghost…. because i do… a lot… and i like azul.. a lot…

next character now bc idk what to put

KALIM AL-ASIM.

hes probably the one to ask what music you listen to lets be real

like ‘oh hey [name] what type of music do you like? :)’ probably expecting pop or indie or whatever but nah bro u like metal… and he like oh ok

doesnt matter what kind just metal

he would also not like it bc yeah but hed also think its cool i think

hes honest abt it too 😭 ‘oh sorry [name] i dont like it that much but its cool’ because its kalim <3

no but seriously i cant think of a band hed like tbh

JAMIL VIPER.

do u know how much i was struggling to type his last name like good lord. it went from biper to bipee to vipee and to viper… like elaria…. thats so easy… stop

the consequences of having autocorrect off

moving on i don’t necessarily see him listening to metal

maybe deftones too… or ghost… but like .0005 of their songs… just yk… imo…

anyways wouldnt care at all what music u listen to

just is like alr and goes back to whatever

we stan jamil. get yourself a jamil. why? BC I NEES ONE AND NO ONE I KNOW IRL LISTENS TO METAL OR DEATH METAL OR ANYTHING AND WHEN I PLAY IT THEY YELL AT ME AND ACT LIKE I COMMITTED MURDER

its rough out here guys

VIL SCHOENHEIT.

youre done for

you are literally not allowed 100 meters around him

the MINUTE you play any sort of band classified as metal you are condemned to hell

i know for a FACT he would hate metal because

its fucking metal and its vil what do u expect him to listen to slaughter to prevail and go around moshing??? no. no u dont. becaus ehe wouldnt.

he does not tolerate metal at all. ghost? no. slipknot? absolutely not. whitechapel? why dont u go worship the devil (do they have an equivalent to the devil in twst idk) while ur at it because vil schoenheit in all his glory hates metal.

EPEL FELMIER.

metalhead epel would be canon but we all know he listens to country

lets be real tho hed listen to it to spite vil

maybe… maybe… u can make him listen to it… and hed maybe like it… and youll have a metal music buddy…

honestlt just say ‘vil doesnt like metal’ and hes probably blasting infant annihilator bc i think its funny

other than that epel does not care for metal. however hes probably like one of the others who doesnt care if u play it

i mean i can see him listening to avatar?? specifically black waters and the eagle has landed… but black waters mainly

idk because i have not written for epel before and i haven’t played the pomefiore chapter in a month so i dont remember lol

IDIA SHROUD.

lets be real bro listens to indie

a mitski fan. cries to nobody every night. he does not touch the metal genre.

anyways im gonna say this and hes a metalhead isnt he

oyher than that he has control of the aux BECAUSE HE DOESNT LEAVE HIS FUCKING ROOM. HOW WILL HE HAVE AN OPINION ON METAL WHEN HE DOES NOT LET ANYONE PLAY ANYTHING BC HE CANT BE BOTHERED TO GO TOUCH SOME GRASS HUH??????

i am an IDIA HATER. IDIA SHROUD ANTI. I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THAT I KIN HIM.

other than that only listens to indie of lofi idc what anyone else says im right.

MALLEUS DRACONIA.

the average classical music enjoyer

i believe he enjoys classical music or no music at all however bc its malleus everyone thinks he listens to a band that is called smth like DEATH BLOOD MAGIC INFANT KILLER GRAVE ROBBER ZOMBIE DICK but he just would listen to classical music because i said so

this poor man is dubbed a metalhead while he probably doesnt even know one sub-genre of metal

this poor guy cant catch a break

its okay malleus. you are the only one here who has peak music taste and thats okay

[wynterhxney]

INT. HOUSE - DAY

Suitcases are made for proper vacations. Duffle bags are for roughing it and not since his grueling time in Costa Rica has the man prepared for anything quite like this. It’s all there. The probable cause of making headway on this project but something is holding him back. More information and it’s something he chose to set up by way of video call. If anyone is going to convince him this whole thing isn’t for nothing it’s now or never. Grabbing some of his notes to stuff into his personal messenger bag, the director paused at the ring of his bell. Someone decided to drop in on him on a day he has to set aside for final arrangements. Well, shit.

Landon huffed, setting things aside to move through his den. People either camp out or they cause trouble. While he isn’t remotely unknown any longer there is still a want for privacy. Imagine that but here they go. Coming in droves ever since he made it in the spotlight but this current idea calls back to his roots. “Hey, did you not see the cameras and no trespass-?” his question tripped up answering his front door.

“Have you seen the latest edition of Entertainment Mag?” Cutting him off with the magazine held up definitely should shut him down. Or up. Depends on Lan’s mood today but make no mistake the director’s on the cover. Holding it up beside his face, Brett’s finger prodded against the image of filmmaker Landon B. Wynter who is oddly nonplussed about seeing his face on a big time entertainment cover. “Pretty handsome guy. Know who he is?”

When he received no reply it’s time to switch topic. Okay this isn’t the social call his friend thinks it is. “Sorry, I know you hate the attention…”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Landon shook his head, leaving his door open despite walking away. An invitation for the other man to come inside and this time it’s pretty obvious. He saw the magazine already. Why would he react any other way? It was a good shoot. Nobody pissed him off during but he understands how people he knows will eat it up. In all the positive ways at least; Landon cocked an eyebrow. “Did you really buy a copy of that?”

Brett closed the front door, casually glancing down at the magazine. “Could I get one for free? Do you have extra copies? Someone at the station is a big fan and if I can maybe get your autograph for her?”

Is that why he showed up out of the blue like this? Really can it be less obvious. “You want me to help you impress someone? Glad you thought of me.”

“No! It’s not for that.” Insisting otherwise paints his palms red. Caught with both hands stained with the truth isn’t he? Much truth as he can cram into his brain on a regular working day. Too much going into his podcast lately, Brett has been late to his Devil’s Hour showcase at the station every day this week. The bosses are not happy. “Heard you might have a project,” he murmured half to himself, eyes fixed on Landon’s duffle bag. Infamous thing survived a rain forest, yellow fever and a group of cannibals as he remembers. “Wait. That’s the doc bag. I thought you were done with docs?”

“Things change,” a vague response from the filmmaker, he packed more things up. “Wanna tell me why you’re actually here?”

Damn he’s good with that. Too good and Brett is absolutely in the know with how things in Hollywood work. At least it’s an eye opening experience seeing a longtime friend swarmed by press all the time. A lot of times he will see the praise. Others he sees that crap from his ex. Whenever Emeline pops up somewhere with Mark ‘I’m such a dickhead’ Lansing a few of the DJ’s brain cells wither. “Cat’s out the bag,” giving a shrug, he shifted to show off the bag strapped to his back. “I’m coming with.”

Landon snorted, giving him a long look that said how hilarious that sounds. In fact his old buddy here swore that he would never travel for a documentary again. The kind that leads them to another country and this will. Except there is something far too serious in Brett’s expression for him to doubt he’s joking. “No. No way in hell.”

“What do you mean no way in hell?! I stuck it to the end for the cannibals!”

“Brett – you have no idea what I am even doing.”

“That’s the beauty of it! Remember? When we were in college and you wanted to just do anything without limits?” Reminding Landon of their days as crazy filmmakers and artists isn’t so out of pocket. “Only thing missing is Claudia but we know she’s a big time actress now.”

“Apparently I'm a big time director and actor,” he scoffed at Brett’s choice of words. “Cosmic never told me I could never go back to my roots. YOU told me to my face a few years ago never again in another country.”

“I meant another country with people who could eat me, Landon. Come on. Original crew has to stick together. Besides, have you told your girl about it?” And there comes the  million dollar question because the look on Landon’s face says it all. @tennesseewynter

[mariana-oconnor]

Black Peter pt 1

Haven't heard of this one either. Let's hope that's down to the fact it's a later story and not because it isn't popular anymore because of *looks at title* reasons.

I have never known my friend to be in better form, both mental and physical, than in the year '95.

Watson does keep waxing poetic about the year 1895. Must have been an epic year.

Holmes, however, like all great artists, lived for his art's sake, and, save in the case of the Duke of Holdernesse, I have seldom known him claim any large reward for his inestimable services.

Do we know the Duke of Holdernesse? I don't remember his name. How rude was he to Holmes that Holmes took his money? I feel like that must be arsehole tax.

So unworldly was he—or so capricious—that he frequently refused his help to the powerful and wealthy where the problem made no appeal to his sympathies...

More evidence for the Sherlock Holmes hates the rich theory. It's not that he's unworldly or capricious, Watson, it's that usually they're the bad guys (please see King of Bohemia). Not to put modern biases on a historical fictional character or anything.

down to his arrest of Wilson, the notorious canary-trainer

What did he train the canaries to do?

Was it, like, an entire hoard of pickpocketing birds?

Did they murder people for him? What?

Google tells me it might have been a euphemism for brothel-keeper. Or a singing teacher. So... honestly that story could go any number of ways. I think I'll stick to actual canaries, though. Probably in Canary Wharf.

During the first week of July my friend had been absent so often and so long from our lodgings that I knew he had something on hand. The fact that several rough-looking men called during that time and inquired for Captain Basil...

Watson pining at home while Holmes is out with rough-looking men and having them call him Captain...

...made me understand that Holmes was working somewhere under one of the numerous disguises and names with which he concealed his own formidable identity.

Honestly, I feel like this is character development. Before Watson would have just been 'Holmes is away' and 'Who is Captain Basil?', two entirely separate lines of thought. Now he has connected the dots. Proud of you, buddy!

...he strode into the room, his hat upon his head and a huge barbed-headed spear tucked like an umbrella under his arm.

“If you could have looked into Allardyce's back shop you would have seen a dead pig swung from a hook in the ceiling, and a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves furiously stabbing at it with this weapon. I was that energetic person, and I have satisfied myself that by no exertion of my strength can I transfix the pig with a single blow."

Everyone needs a hobby.

I recognised him at once as Stanley Hopkins, a young police inspector for whose future Holmes had high hopes...

Oh hai, Hopkins!

"However, my friend Dr. Watson knows nothing of this matter, and I should be none the worse for hearing the sequence of events once more."

For the sake of Watson and us, the invisible audience, please to be info-dumping exposition policeman!

"In 1883 he commanded the steam sealer Sea Unicorn, of Dundee."

"He has been known to drive his wife and his daughter out of doors in the middle of the night, and flog them through the park until the whole village outside the gates was aroused by their screams."

Can't say I'm entirely sorry Captain Carey is dead. In fact, maybe just chalk this up as self-inflicted and leave it at that. Whoever did it probably had a good reason.

However, the nickname doesn't seem to really be racist, so that's better than it could have been. Swarthy, as far as I'm aware, refers to tanned/weather beaten skin usually, which makes sense for a longtime sailor.

"He had built himself a wooden outhouse—he always called it ‘the cabin’—a few hundred yards from his house, and it was here that he slept every night. It was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten."

The original man cave?

The description of him is not crying out the sort of man who would keep tobacco on hand just in case his friends wanted some. It's not crying out the sort of man who has friends, for a start.

“Exactly, Mr. Holmes. I appreciated that point, and I conjectured that it was dropped by the murderer in his hurried flight. It lay near the door.”

Hopkins really is the smartest of the police officers we've met. And I still haven't noticed Watson comparing him to an animal.

So we have a terrible man killed by a harpoon in his man cave and no one noticed for ages because no one wanted to talk to him. I'm kind of hoping that all the women were in on it and they just... harpooned him together.

[skitskatdacat63]

thinking so hard about . when exactly in the martian timeline they hated and loved eachother can u help me .. cause after turkey 2010 they had their love moments as well and even in 2012 they had their buddy buddy moments so idk !!! they’re confusing

OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY I MEANT TO REPLY TO THIS AND THEN I JUST COMPLETELY FORGOT, SO: hello :D

This is something I think about often as well. Teammates are a weird dynamic in F1 because you're forced to compete for the same resources and against each other in the WDC, but at the same time have to still think combined for the team, for the WCC. I think teammate relationships are like being siblings or like being in a marriage(actually I think Mark has said this before haha.) You can never fully hate or separate from each other, even if you go through rough patches, because you're stuck together and have had the same experiences, for good or for worse.

Turkey 2010 is funny because I think that was one of their first bad moments as teammates, right? And I love that RBR made them take that couples therapy, "us in our get-along shirt", picture. That's what I mean by going through the same experiences, like yeah they were probably pissed at each other but were also probably bonding over the hilarity/awkwardness of RBR making them do damage control.

I just think it's probably difficult to stay upset with someone consistently when you're constantly working with them, and you've also experienced the highest highs and lowest lows with each other. I think I referenced this in my Martian champagne pics post but it's kinda funny when you look through all of those shared podiums that Mark always seemed to be way more willing to spray Seb and smile at him when Mark was the one who won(Literally 3/4 of the pics from that post when they were both at RBR were from Mark's wins.) Like it was such a "I can't stay mad at you 🤭" relationship with them. Like with Mark in particular, it feels like whenever he got a better result, he was mostly like "I shall forgive your transgressions." But then 2013 was kind of the last straw for him, with Multi-21, and especially since he really was getting crushed by Seb and not even getting any wins like in the prev years. But then, by removing himself from it all when retiring, he was able to take a step back and see what it was like to not be in constant, direct competition anymore.

Idk if I'm the best person to ask as I don't think I'm in any measures a great Martian scholar. But these are my thoughts :D I just think being teammates in such a competitive environment can result in such love-hate relationships and that Martian is one of the greatest examples of how it fluctuates. I think it'd be really difficult to try and parse when exactly they were on good or bad terms. For me, tbh I think it kinda correlates with Mark's results because I think with just that whole situation, where they were in as teammates directly competing at the very top, it was a lot easier for Mark, rather than Seb, to start feeling resentment as he was generally drawing the shorter straw most of the time.

Basically, teammates(Martian especially) are bonded through triumph and trauma

[lorbslorb]

much to discuss

so you’re probably all like wow ok lorb back for your bi-monthly “i promise ill write something” post???

long story short??? yes.

short story long??? oh buddy.

so first things first i’ve been dealing with rough living situations as well as shitty work conditions. quit a job due to the conditions that frankly i could have sued over but id rather die than see those people again, etc etc etc. im usually very VERY careful with what information i share to you all on here because i try to avoid being detected by people who know me personally on here, but i think im being vague enough.

secondly, i got a boyfriend!!!!!! and they said i could never do it. look at me now. all boyfriended up with one of my homie(sexuals). its only been a short amount of time we’ve been dating but hey im THERE. i did it.

so you might be wondering oh dear does this mean no more fanfiction??? no. no it does not. i do what i want and my boyfriend approves (as he should) so i really DO mean it when i say expect more stuff. maybe one of these days ill show my boyfriend what i write on here. actually i might explode and die at the thought im so shy.

anyway, sorry for seemingly bailing on yall. ive just been… so tired…

i’m honestly considering posting stuff from other things im into as well, though you all might not dig it as much. what can i say i juggle my hyperfixations like crazy.

anywho. i promise there will be something sooner or later, i do have a draft ive been slowly chipping away at when i have the time. i have NOT abandoned you.

[pendulum-motion]

in honor of deep cover tomorrow here are my milgram survivability rankings going into round 3:

haruka: 0/10. sorry buddy. if anyone is dying (which they almost certainly are) it's gonna be our favourite blue boy. i trust him to carry out his threat, and i think anyone who has any possibility of stopping him is too busy with their own nonsense. who's going to stop him?? mu?? rip.

yuno 10/10. yuno is probably the only person who has gone through milgram and (as of now) come out fine. she needs therapy as much as anyone else for her intimacy issues but those issues are making her pursue unhealthy venues of affection instead of, say, tearing away her very basis for living and denying her personhood. also her third verdict is almost certainly going to be innocent. i'd be really surprised if anything happens to her.

muu: 3/10. i'm really unsure about how muu's going to be doing. my first instinct was that she's going to survive no matter what comes her way because she's the queen!! she can deal with anything!! but then i gave the subtext of afterpain some more thought and... she was most likely actively suicidal as a result of that situation, which is behaviour she might return to if she falls back into that headspace. i'm just not sure how badly she's going to take her verdict, especially with her only support system (haruka) out of the picture. worst case scenario, she dies. even if she survives, she won't be doing well.

mahiru: 8/10 mahiru is also pretty hard to judge, because i don't know how she's going to take her verdict. or, being more precise, how far she's going to take it, because i'm pretty sure she's going to take the innocent as confirmation that she was right all along and Love Wins and her worldview is healthy and correct, actually. obviously not a healthy mindset, but arguably not one that's detrimental to her immediate survival, at least. her status should also be pretty tied to shidou's considering the severity of her injuries, so her rating goes down to a 2/10 if he's taken out.

kazui: 10/10 i'm going to continue the trend of comparing kazui with yuno in that both of them have made it through milgram largely unscathed and will continue to do so. unlike her, he will probably be involved in any physical altercations in the prison, but i really doubt any of the other prisoners will be capable of harming him in any way that matters. (physically at least. i hope yuno keeps owning him every chance she gets). tangentially, i also think it's possible to read romantic connotations onto his interactions with shidou?? i would be interested to see if that persists, and how it plays out. this section just turned into the kazui gossip corner orz. sorry.

mikoto/john: 10/10 and 0/10 (but not necessarily in that order). please excuse my inexpertise with this terminology. so the system's body is definitely making it out of this intact. john is seeing to that, and mikoto's isolation is kind of a blessing in disguise because the other prisoners are going to leave him alone and out of any interpersonal conflict. however, according to the rules milgram has imposed (the project, not the prison) either mikoto or john will be 'dying'. i think the third verdict will determine that; innocent and mikoto lives, guilty and john lives. of course, whoever makes it is going to be intensely affected and traumatized by milgram; those interrogation questions are looking rough. i miss shidou's little drawings.

THE BATTLE ROYALE SECTION

so the defining conflict in milgram round 2 was definitely kotoko vs. the guilty prisoners. going off of the interrogations and timelines thus far, i think round 3's central conflict will be prisoners vs. es, and by extension milgram itself.

amane: 10/10. i think amane is going to be the figure a lot of this conflict centers around. she's stated direct opposition to es and milgram, knows the truth about us, and has threatened one of her fellow prisoners. add in the innocent verdict and i definitely think that she is not going to spend the time between trials idly. despite her position as an agitator, i don't think she's going to face any real danger for now. shidou and kazui, her only active opponents, are both against child murder (a high bar in milgram) and i don't think they want to see her hurt. also purge march just reached 4.3M views so she's fine on a meta level lol.

fuuta: 7/10. ah fuuta. what an absolute wet cat of a man. fuuta is almost definitely in the amane camp (cult?) going from the timelines, and i think he will take action with her. any danger posed to himself, will be, then, all his own stupid fault. however, i don't think his addition to her faction adds any substantial danger to their opposition apart from a numbers advantage? fuuta is a half-blind gamer who will be actively neglecting proper medical care for his multiple fractures. i do think he's in more danger than amane purely because i don't think kazui and shidou will have as many reservations about harming him in the course of proper self-defense.

shidou: 6/10. i would like to say shidou will be fine, but i think that's a fast judgement to make regarding how little we know of the situation in milgram. he is the only prisoner who has had a direct threat against his life made. also, while he has gained new (and incredibly unhealthy) purpose for living by helping the injured, he does have a massive guilt complex about the death of his children. part of him might still see being killed by a child as proper atonement. obviously, he could take amane one-on-one. he could probably even deal with amane and fuuta at once. with kazui backing him, he's coming out of any straight-forward assault okay. but i just don't know how amane is going to approach this. can she set traps? can she poison him? can she catch him alone? on a meta level, would it be more engaging to have amane commit another murder and the prisoners lose their doctor? i'm bumping him down just because of these possibilities.

kotoko: 10/10. kotoko will be fine. she has no intent of harming herself, and i don't think kazui or john are going to want to pick a fight. i will say that i think a guilty verdict (which she will almost certainly be receiving) is the best thing for her to keep the peace at this stage. we are now going to enter the wild speculation zone.

i think kotoko has a strong chance of joining amane's faction- not out of religious zealotry, but out of opposition to milgram's judgements. she very much wants to tear the system down and then reshape it in her image, and i think that her desire aligns with amane there, as amane herself stated in her round one voice drama. that's why i think the guilty verdict is ideal - if kotoko is found innocent, she could join in on the attack against shidou. with her distracting kazui, fuuta and amane could have a chance of taking shidou down. this shouldn't happen if kotoko is restrained, so his survivability is much higher as of now. (otherwise i'd give him a 3/10). es had better watch out though.

[dogydayz]

I stood up upon that old cliff out in the forest and looked out at the drop below. I usually wasn't so damn... Sad... back then, or at least I never admitted that I was, but... At that point I'd hit an especially low point. I'd say it was maybe a year or two ago, not super sure at this point, keepin' track of time is a fuckin' waste nowadays anyway.

I'd been... Battlin' with lotsa thoughts, thoughts 'bout where I came from, who I was. It was... At a point where I'd accepted that I wasn't meant ta be here, but I also felt super fuckin' lost all the same. I'd accepted it, but I wasn't at peace with that shit, so it made me angry and upset and I sometimes thought I was gonna just burst into tears. Fuckin' weak, if ya ask me, but at the same time... Lettin' myself cry later on was the best feelin' I'd had in so long...

But at this point, I wasn't alright with that idea. I couldn't act like that, I'd told myself. But all the same, I felt lost and confused, and useless too. I wasn't a fuckin' hero, and I couldn't even make myself into a competent adversary. I was just some guy who fucked shit up for the others, just an asshole with no place in this realm. Even at that point I was still stuck on wantin' ta be a part of shit, yet not wantin' ta become one of those "goody goody" folks, cause that shit's not me.

So I didn't see myself goin' anywhere. No buddies, not anymore, I hadn't seen those fuckers in years by then. No purpose, nothin' ta strive for or do. Bein' "above" people didn't even appeal to me anymore.... No real reason to stick around, huh?

So that's what I thought about. Would probably make their lives easier, I thought. They'd probably like me better if I took out the damn trash, I convinced myself.

But I'll admit, heights fuckin' scare the shit outta me, so I hesitated, I hesitated for a long while.

Long enough ta hear the sound of an engine, and the sounds of rough wheels digging into the dirt and underbrush, approaching, getting louder fast, before I heard the sounds of breaking and skidding to a halt. The low rumble of the motor slowly died down, and I heard feet hit the ground.

I turned my head to see who was there, then spun and tensed up, facing the familiar person.

And, as usual, he only stared back at me with a blank sort of expression, classic look for the stupid bastard huh?

Shadow... He knew me all too well. For all I knew he hated me with a passion. For all I knew he hadn't killed me yet because that blue idiot absolutely refuses to let him. Too fuckin' merciful man, he coulda avoided so much shit had he just eliminated me...

And yet, as we stared at one another, not saying a word, his expression... It... Slowly changed. Not to rage, not to hatred, not to any sort of disgust or anger.... It was... More like some weird fuckin' mix of... Empathy and... Sadness? Not... Not sadness, somethin' like sadness though. Those same vibes.

All he did was give a soft sigh, before turning away and hoppin' back on his bike, giving me one last look... One as if to say "follow, if you want", before he drove away back into the forest on the nearby track I think he'd been travellin' on prior.

Somethin' about that... How he'd looked at me and just.... Said nothin'... It got to me a lil. That shit hurt, and I still don't really know why.

He'd had every opportunity to kill me, then and there. He coulda gotten ridda my sorry ass 'n avoided dealing with my bullshit later on. Yet, despite all that... He... Almost... Seemed like he'd wanted to say somethin' to me.

And... He also didn't try ta stop me. Something about that too just fuckin'... I dunno, it... Confused me so much that... When I looked back over the cliff's edge, I... I didn't desire that anymore. I didn't feel like it was needed. I was curious, I... Had ta figure out why the fuck he'd just... Been like that to me. Why he'd looked like he cared about me. He's wasting his damn time caring about a fuckin shitfaced loser like me, but...

I can't help but want it to be true.

Maybe I am just a selfish prick, who fuckin' knows. All I know is that I...

I desperately want to have somethin' to hold onto here, in this world that's not my own... I don't think I'm ever goin' back anyway...

And I decided then that I'd... At least attempt to make something for myself. Homeless, idiotic, and, admittedly, depressed as shit... I still, in that moment, wanted ta try.

[rphunter]

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‘X User’ is a predator/abuser! Yikes!  That’s no good.  Send us a screenshot with proof and we will block that asshole.

‘X User’ ghosted me! That’s rough, buddy.  We’re very sorry you guys didn’t gel, but there’s nothing we can do about that.  Send us another ad!  There are lots of potential partners out there waiting for you!

Is there anything you won’t publish? We do not allow RPF ads for celebrities under 18.  We also will not post ads that state the seeker is okay with writing with persons 17 and under.

Why haven’t you published my post yet? We try to keep turnaround time under 24 hours, but some days are rougher than others.  If it has been 48 hours since you submitted your ad and it followed the rules, please feel free to resend.  However, please do check the tags to see if your ad has been posted before resubmitting.

Do I have to include my age in my ad? Not specifically to be published, no, but you may want to add it as information for potential partners when it gets thrown out into the roleplay tag.

Ewwww, you’re a proship blog?? Pro-ship means to be in favor of letting others ship fictional characters in whatever way they want.  Any other definition you have been given is false.  We don’t care what blorbos you ship or why; therefore, we are pro ship.

How do you keep minors off your blog? The short answer is, we probably don’t, but we’re doing our best.  We block followers who have an under 18 age in their bios.  If an ad states that the user is okay roleplaying with people under 18, that ad is not published and you will be blocked.  We rely heavily on the honor system, as a lot of 18+ blogs have to, but if you find out a minor has interacted with your posts or contacted you, please let us know.

Is the inbox empty? No.